


Take Things Less Seriously

by nancyboy



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, Modern Era, Rating May Change, note: other character tags and relationship tags will be added as this progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:27:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21514528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nancyboy/pseuds/nancyboy
Summary: As a college junior, the things Grantaire should be concerned about are getting his work done and thinking about his career. All Grantaire is actually concerned about is getting in the pants of the hot blonde student librarian he really should consider learning the name of, and writing crappy erotic novels for forty year old women unhappy with their current romatic life to read as an act of escapism. He’s a simple man really.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	Take Things Less Seriously

As a college junior, the things Grantaire should be concerned about are getting his work done and thinking about his career. All Grantaire is actually concerned about is getting in the pants of the hot blonde student librarian he really should consider learning the name of, and writing crappy erotic novels for fourty year old women unhappy with their current romatic life to read as an act of escapism. He’s a simple man really.

Actually, getting in that hot blond’s pants has been entirely theoretical so far, evidenced by the fact that Grantaire still hasn’t caught his name. He has, though, gone to the library way more than what is realistic, especially since he lives off campus in an apartment roomy enough for him and his two other roommates not to get on each others nerves. Sadly, though, Grantaire’s emotional walls and insecurities have prevented him from actually interacting with this guy like a normal human being. Bahorel calls him a pussy, but what does Bahorel know anyway? That man can’t pick up girls to save his life. 

He’s dedicated a lot of this library time not to work, like a good student should be doing, but to writing the aforementioned novels he’s gotten himself into writing. It stemmed from a visit to the bookstore (the off campus one that actually sells books other than textbooks) with Bahorel, when they strayed into the romance section of the store, just for laughs, of course. Bahorel and Grantaire may be two desperately lonely men, but they are not THAT lonely. There was this fun game they used to play where they’d try to find the most ridiculous one they could. Then after the first battle, the loser would try to find one that could top it. It was like… battle of the terrible novels.

That one time, though, it didn’t progress as usual. Grantaire’s minor in English got brought up, as it sometimes did, in the form of him making jokes about how he could write these novels so easily and make bank. For some reason, even though Grantaire had said this many times before, this made the cogs turn in Bahorel's head. Then Bahorel uttered those fateful words.

“I bet you you couldn’t.”

Now that Bahorel made it a  _ bet, _ naturally Grantaire  _ had  _ to do it. So, he spent the majority of his boring Sociology class that semester writing the trashiest novel he could conjure up. Grantaire may be lazy, but that laziness was very conditional. When he had a bet with his best bro, he could not afford to be lazy. Grantaire is a man of his word, and nothing is worse than losing a bet. That one time during spring break was enough for him to learn that.

Surely enough, Grantaire finished that novel. All 65,000 words of it sitting there in his computer. It was most definitely a waste of time, but hey, he won the bet. Proudly, that night he showed Bahorel. He sat there for two and a half hours and watched Bahorel read it with a sense of pride.

“I won the bet,” Grantaire said with a huge smirk on his face. 

Grantaire then expected some sort of a reaction from Bahorel (he’s a reactive guy), but none came. He almost felt disappointed. “Nothing? You don’t have anything to say?” Grantaire whined.

“Grantaire, I’m really impressed…” Bahorel said finally.

“Thank you,” Grantaire said with a prideful smirk.

“But I don’t care about the bet anymore.” Bahorel added.

Grantaire’s face twisted into something that reflected his mixed feelings of anger and confusion. “What?! You mean I did this for nothing?!”

Bahorel shook his head rapidly. “No, no… Grantaire. You could definitely make bank on this. You’re right. It’s like all those books we make fun of but… better. Like, I am definitely no literary analyst or whatever, but this has, like.... Like a better quality to it?”

“You think so?” Grantaire cocked an eyebrow in skepticism. “I dunno, I mean I enjoy writing, but I never really considered myself a really good writer.”

“Shhh…” Bahorel placed a finger over his friend’s lips. “Stop talking bad about yourself and just get this published. I’m sure ‘Ponine can hook you up. That girl has so many connections. It’s kind of insane.”

Grantaire did. And it got published, well, under a pen name because he doesn’t want this to be a reflection of himself. Montparnasse and his goth friends would totally call him a sell out. It was a dirty little secret that only he, Bahorel, and Eponine knew. The rest of the world saw R. Lovelace as a weird, popular erotic romance novelist who had no connection to Grantaire whatsoever. In fact, most people thought R. Lovelace was a woman. Not a 21 year old male college student. Grantaire’s secret was safe. And it was quite nice to make enough money to pay some of his bills.

~*~

Journaling his thoughts was something that his therapist recommended. Grantaire didn’t really think therapy was going to work for him, but Eponine made him go after a particularly bad break down.  _ We attend a college that allows us to get free therapy, use it,  _ she said. She was probably right. He hates it, but Eponine is usually right.

Journaling was recommended to him because Grantaire does not like to talk about his feelings. Hence why he didn’t, and still doesn’t think that therapy would work for him. He barely talks to Eponine about these things, and she’s the most important person in his life. So, the therapist thought that writing about his feelings would be easier than having to admit to them in person.

Well it sure isn’t that easy, Grantaire concludes, as he has been sitting in the library for about forty minutes reflecting on his life and not writing down a good ninety percent of it. Just the basics, and yet all he has written is absolute shit. It’s just a stupid reflection of his current life, which consists of some college stuff, but mostly Hot Librarian and writing, with a splash of break downs. He blames this on Hot Librarian himself, as him just existing there has led him down this stream of consciousness. Maybe journaling in the library wasn’t as attractive of an idea as he had originally thought. He needed a break from writing, yet still wanted to avoid doing actual hard work as much as possible. Journaling should have been easy enough. Grantaire hates that it wasn’t.

Grantaire looks down at what he’s written in the journal. His attention is drawn to the sentence where he mentioned that his career is a secret to everyone but him Eponine and Bahorel. Well, now his therapist is going to know too. He jots that down. Now his journal entry is a whole eight sentences long. Thank god his chapter deadline isn’t for another month and he’s already about two thousand words in, or else he’d feel a little guilty for wasting so much time on this stupid journal.

Grantaire’s publisher, Mr. Fauchelevent, sets deadlines for each chapter he has to write. This is not the usual company policy, merely something Mr. Fauchelevent has put into place to increase Grantaire’s productivity. The only R. Lovelace novel that ever flopped was the result of a period of particularly bad emotional turmoil for Grantaire, causing him to push off finishing the novel until dangerously close to his deadline. After that, Mr. Fauchelevent decided to mandate a deadline on a chapter by chapter basis, as he felt like more structure would allow Grantaire to flourish more. If only this had the same effect on his school work. Mr. Fauchelevent hates when Grantaire doesn’t do his school work on time. Everyone hates it. He wonders why he’s a disappointment. He jots down a quick  _ I feel like a disappointment  _ in his journal and decides not to dwell on it any further.

Now he has nothing to do, and time to kill. Maybe he could start his paper for his Mythology class so that he could feel less… lame about himself. But the paper is due in a few weeks yet, and they still have some more stuff to go over in class. He really doesn’t have work right now. The journaling didn’t work out, his deadline is far away, and his most important assignment isn’t due for another few weeks. He’s stuck in the library for at least another hour before his painting class with absolutely nothing to do. Grantaire glances at Hot Librarian, who’s looking bored standing at the desk. Maybe it’s time to actually learn this guy’s name.

  
Excuse… what is an excuse to go up there. He has no need for actual help. What do people even ask library aids to do? Tell people how the hell the dewey decimal system works? Oh, aren’t the photography books on the fourth floor? That could potentially give Grantaire enough time to get the balls to ask Hot Librarian on a date. Alright, that’s unrealistic, but at least he can try to get this guy’s name.

Grantaire takes a deep breath, then shoves the stupid journal in his bag and swings it over his shoulder. He goes directly up to the Hot Librarian, now possessing a strange rush of adrenaline. “Excuse me, can you help me find this one photography book? It has like… weird pictures of fruit in it. Fruit that are shaped like other things.”

Hot Librarian looks at him, almost relieved. “Sure thing. I’m actually so glad I can move around instead of standing here in the same position for another hour. Ever since they put a guide up on our university website of which floor has which sections, people never really ask for help anymore. Internet killed the underpaid library aid.” He says, with a slight, melodic chuckle. His voice is smooth and light, sounding like what Grantaire can best describe as an angel, an actual angel. Fuck, he’s hot, Grantaire thinks. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe it was better not to find out more about a cute boy millions of lightyears out of his league.

“Are you going to follow me or what?” Hot Librarian says, now closer to the elevator. Grantaire now realizes he’s been standing there swooning like a dumb idiot. Off to a great start. Grantaire shuffles quickly to catch up, mumbling a shameful sorry.

Hot Librarian waves his hand. “That’s alright. Have to wait for the elevator anyway.”

With that, the elevator opens with a chime. Grantaire steps in along with Hot Librarian. He is now in a confined space with a super hot out of his league guy. This was really not a good idea.

Hot Librarian, to Grantaire’s chagrin, makes elevator talk. “I see you here all the time,” he says. Oh god, he actually noticed me, Grantaire thinks with a rush of dread. Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Hot Librarian continues to speak. “And you’re always typing something. Are you an English major or something?” he asks.

Grantaire clears his throat, trying to expel all the nerves that have been building up exponentially. “Close. English minor. I’m a Fine Arts major. Everyone always tells me that I’m stupid and the roles should be reversed,” he says. Grantaire doesn’t tell him that he actually isn’t working on any actual school work. He decides it’s better to let him think he’s hard-working for now. Let himself have a small ounce of hope that maybe he can actually date this guy.

  
Hot Librarian tsks. “I happen to think that there is an immense value to art that our society continuously undermines.”

“Well, I mean… it’s not exactly a fruitful career path…” Grantaire admits.

The look on Hot Librarian’s face sours. “It’s sad that our capitalistic society has created an environment where such things can’t flourish.”

Before Grantaire can respond, the elevator door opening halts their conversation. They both step out onto the fourth floor.

“So… um… what’s your major?” Grantaire asks, as Hot Librarian beelines for the photography books.

“Oh, I’m actually double majoring in Poli Sci and Philosophy.”

“Oh, wow… and you’re balancing all that with this job?” Grantaire appreciates his decision to create the pretense of being hardworking.

Hot Librarian smiles proudly. “And I’m the leader of the student activism club.” Man, this guy is so out of his league.

“Wow, uh… that’s a lot…” Grantaire says stupidly, utterly impressed.

Hot Librarian simply nods, and kneels in front of the case of books where the book Grantaire mentioned is held. He pulls it out from the shelf. “I believe this is what you were looking for.”

Grantaire takes it disinterestedly. “Oh. Right.” He forgot that’s why he was technically here.

“You’re welcome.” Hot Librarian turns around to leave.

“Wait!” Grantaire shouts in protest, with no particular reason to. Oh right! He’s supposed to find out this guy’s name. “Thanks, um… actually, I don’t know your name.”

“Enjolras,” Hot Librarian says. 

“Thank you, Enjolras.”

“My pleasure,” Enjolras says, and with that he leaves.

“Enjolras…” Grantaire swoons, sliding into a sitting position against the bookshelves, clutching the book against his chest. He has a name.

~*~

When Grantaire finally gets home later that afternoon, the book sits on his coffee table as a reminder of Enjolras. He took it out after the fateful interaction, even though sadly Enjolras didn’t check him out. Enjolras’ shift must have ended in the long period of time Grantaire spent on the fourth floor of the library swooning. 

Looking at it again, a thought suddenly popped into Grantaire’s head, a thought so obvious that he couldn’t believe he had not thought of it yet. It’s amazing what infatuation can do to the brain. 

He had a name. That’s enough information for Eponine to find out something. That girl should be a spy. She is a master of gaining intel.

“Eponine!” Grantaire whines out from his lazy location on the corner of their second-hand couch from Bahorel’s aunt. 

“What?!” She calls back from her room, making no motion to leave her bed.

“C’mere!”

Eponine responds with a long, overdramatic groan. Then Grantaire hears irritated shuffling coming closer to him, and once the stomps are finally at their loudest, Eponine is standing in front of him. She does not look very pleased. “What do you want?”

  
“Guess who finally learned the name of that hot blonde librarian.” Grantaire says proudly.

All annoyance Eponine previously felt was thrown out the window. Her face twists into her classic Eponine smirk. “It’s about time! God, I was starting to think you’d never do it.” She frowns for a second. “I owe Bahorel twenty bucks…”

“You bet on my lovelife?” Grantaire cocks an eyebrow, out of pure curiosity and no offense taken. It wasn’t exactly shocking.

“Me and Bahorel are both con men, you know this.” She says. “So are you going to tell me this guy’s name? I’m assuming you want me to find out some information on this guy.”

“You read my mind, ‘Ponine. His name is Enjolras,” Grantaire says, saying the name in a wistful way that’s all too cheesy.

“Enjolras… that sounds familiar, actually…” she trails off in thought. A stroke of genius paints her face. “Oh! That’s the guy in student activism club!”

“Oh right! Yeah, he mentioned that.” Grantaire confirms.

“Thank god, I don’t have to do any actual work.” Eponine says with a smile. A woman after Grantaire’s own heart. That’s why they’re best friends. “Yeah, I’ve been to that club a couple times. Marius makes me go all the time. Cosette is the club’s secretary or something. Actually, I don’t know what her actual role is. Enjolras is weird about making sure everyone in the club is equal. Everyone’s too nice to tell him to cut the bullshit and just call himself the club president. He insists on being called the leader because he feels the connotation is much more gentle.”

“Cosette like as in my publisher’s daughter?” Grantaire asks. That girl is who he has to thank for his current novel writing career. He thought it would be difficult for Eponine to find him a publisher, but apparently it was as simple as talking to her high school best friend, Marius’ crush whom he hasn’t made a move on despite being hopelessly in love with her for a few years now. At least Eponine has gained a friend out of it. Her and Cosette are quite close.

“Yeah, that’s the only Cosette I know.” Eponine responds snarkily. “Well here’s an idea, why don’t you come with the club with Marius, Cosette, and I next Thursday? Enjolras is sure to be there.”

“I dunno, I’ve never been really interested in activism. I don’t see the point sometimes. A lot of this shit is out of my control, you know?” Grantaire shrugs

“Are you an idiot? Enjolras is going to be there. That’s a one way ticket to Enjolras interaction time, without being a creepy stalker at the library.” She rolls her eyes at him. “I mean, I’m not super enthused but I still go. Enjolras loves getting new members.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll go…” he groans.

“Good boy.” Eponine pats his head and retreats to her room.

~*~

Grantaire still goes to the library before Thursday. It’s a part of his routine now, he simply can’t help himself. Though, now that he’s sure Enjolras knows who he is, he is much more conscious of how much he stares at him. He flushes, hoping that Enjolras has never noticed that before.

At least he has an excuse this time. That photo book is sitting in his bag, waiting to return home. Grantaire almost doesn’t want to give it up. It’s a reminder of the one and only time he talked to Enjolras. The only way he could convince himself otherwise was that turning it in would give him another shared moment with the mystical Enjolras.

A great idea in theory, but in practice it takes Grantaire quite a bit of time to build up the nerve to get up to the desk. He’s been there for twenty three minutes now. Is that weird?

He needs to get his laptop charger out of his bag. Now would be the perfect time to notice the book and give him an excuse to go up to Enjolras. Wimping out of this would be a terrible decision as it could make things immensely more awkward. Or perhaps Grantaire is creating this all in his head and no one actually thinks like that. Well, it’s better to keep himself in a sound state of mind when doing these things.

Grantaire retrieves both the book and the charger from his bag. He plugs in his laptop slowly to buy him some time, but other than that he really cannot afford to stall too much. He just has to swallow his pride and go up there. What is it about Enjolras that makes him such a mess? He usually has absolutely no problem with flirting and whatnot. 

Grantaire shuffles up to the desk, book in hand. Enjolras doesn’t notice him at first because he’s kneeled next to a cart full of books doing something that library aids are supposed to do. Grantaire isn’t really sure. “Uh. Hey.” Grantaire says to catch his attention.

“Oh hey!” Enjolras looks up from what he was doing, and comes up to the desk. “Returning a book?”

Grantaire nods, because if he doesn’t have to speak it’s better not to. Better than risking making himself look like a complete idiot. As he often does.

Enjolras takes it and places it on the return cart. “Thanks.”

It turns out that returning a book isn’t as social as he remembered it being the one and only time he borrowed a book from this library. Grantaire was craving more Enjolras attention. So he decided to do something that he doubts anyone actually likes: make small talk.

“What are you up to anyway? I’ve always been curious what being a library aid actually entails,” Grantaire finds himself asking. He wondered after the fact if this made his obsession a little bit too obvious. 

“It’s not a very glamorous job,” Enjolras admits with a sigh. “It’s actually pretty boring. Right now I’m just labelling the new arrivals.”

“Any new interesting books?” Grantaire asks, pretending like he actually cares what books this library carries.

“No, just a bunch of scholarly stuff and this random R. Lovelace novel,” Enjolras says, face twisting in disgust.

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Why should he care if Enjolras doesn’t like his books? He hates his own books. He hates the whole genre. Why does it matter to him?

“Not a slightly erotic romance aimed at forty year old women fan?” Grantaire jokes to play off the feeling of rejection. He then expected Enjolras to say something about how he’s not really the target demographic for the book. Or how romance is not his thing. Enjolras doesn’t, though, say anything like that. What he says is much worse.

“Not at all. I hate books like these. They’re horrendous. There’s like… just so much wrong with them. They’re an insult to the art of literature. There is absolutely no substance to them. They’re obviously just a cheap way for publishing companies to make loads of money. A lot of industries are this way. Creating absolute garbage and expecting people to eat it up, just for a quick buck. It’s all adding to the constant dilution of the integrity of art. And don’t get me started on how these things perpetrate heteronormative stereotypes. I mean like, come on!” He picks up the R. Lovelace novel off of the cart and reads the summary off the back. “‘Penny bakes the best apple pie and needs a man to eat them...’? That’s like, sexisim 101! You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” is all Grantaire can manage to say in response. Normally, Grantaire likes to play devil’s advocate in this sort of situation, but he feels too sad now. He shuffles off and slumps down in front of his laptop. He’s too depressed to even think. Not only does Enjolras dislike his work, he vehemently hates that it even exists. He now regrets every decision he’s made in life ever. Perhaps this is the kind of shit Grantaire should be journaling about. So he does, in quick angry scribbles. 

_ Everything I have done in my life thus far has been a mistake. Enjolras hates my books, hates their existence, and eventually is going to hate me. _

_ Signed, R. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a general note, I am a college student and this is just a hobby. Updates are not going to be regular. But I will certainly try! Thanks to Catherine for editing as always. Catherine is also a college student, so I appreciate her doing this for me greatly! And thank YOU for reading

**Author's Note:**

> Just a general note, I am a college student and this is just a hobby. Updates are not going to be regular. But I will certainly try! Thanks to Catherine for editing as always. Catherine is also a college student, so I appreciate her doing this for me greatly! And thank YOU for reading


End file.
